


Polarizing

by angelhums



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:11:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4465013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelhums/pseuds/angelhums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My own predictions and hopes for episode 5. Pretty self indulgent, what can I say?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. semi-conscious

"Nathan, I'm tired of this behavior. You either get over here now, or you can say goodbye to our 'hobby'.

"Well? Are you coming? Good. I'll see you soon. I have a little surprise for you that you're gonna love."

Max's head is spinning. She's lying on what feels like the floor in a bright room, and all of her stuff is gone. When she can finally use her parched tongue to form words, she's surprised at what she says. "Chloe..." 

That's right. Something happened to Chloe. What was it? Focus, Max.

Oh, god she just wants her head to stop hurting. Her body feels dirty and cold. What happened to Chloe? Why can't she remember? 

Forcing her eyes open, she slowly looks around the room. The room is familiar, but her head is so foggy. There's a file cabinet to her left, and a man to her right. She rolls over, onto her back, to see who has put her in this predicament.

Mr. Jefferson! He's not looking at her, but drinking from a cup of amber colored liquid and paging through a red file.

Amber. Rachel Amber. Rachel in the dark room. Max. Max in the dark room!

The realization is haunting. She tries to force her limbs to work, to get up and start moving towards the exit, but it feels like she's been glued to the floor. Maybe she should just try to go back to sleep. The floor's not bad, really... 

No! She has to remember what happened to Chloe. They were running through the junkyard. Max got stabbed with a needle and...

Chloe was shot in the head. Chloe's dead. 

"Oh my god," she says when she realizes, and hears the clink of glass against wood as Mr. Jefferson puts his drink down. His footsteps are light as he approaches her. 

"Max. You need to go back to sleep," he murmurs, crouching down beside her. Max wants to hit him, but is forced to watch him fill up another needle.

"Please don't," she cries out, trying to grab the needle from his hands. "Oh, god no..."

He ignores her, pushing her hands down and injecting her with some drug. 

The light around her is blinding and dizzying as she passes back out. 

When she wakes up again, it feels like it's been seconds. However it's been longer than that, it seems, because Nathan is peering at her through the haze of clouds clogging her brain.

"She's awake. But super out of it. Bitch won't mind if we take some pictures, will she? Sorry they're not selfies, Caulfield. Say cheese!"

Max can't think of moving her face muscles before a bright flash stuns her. Brighter than the flash in this room. When she tries to cover her eyes, the flash goes off again.

Pictures. They're taking pictures of her! She's sick and Chloe's been killed and the only thing they care about is pictures. 

"You fucking... Psychopath."

"Oh my god! Max Amber makes another appearance. Watch your potty mouth. Save it for the big boys, will you?"

"Nathan, you're in my shot."

"Right. Sorry, heh."

Max tries to roll back over onto her stomach, but manages only to get on her side. She can't believe Kate went through this. How did she survive? 

"Hey Maxwell, check out this pic of you with your bitchboy. It'll be the last time you ever see him. Bet you're missing that dyke now, too!"

Max opens her eyes, not realizing they were closed. Nathan is dangling a blurry polaroid in front of her face. His voice is taunting, but his face shows deep concern. Which is so distracting that she almost doesn't see what he's mouthing.

'Focus on the damn photo, Caulfield. Focus!"

Max can't even wonder why Nathan would know about her powers. It doesn't matter, though. He's on her side. And she needs to focus.

As she squints at the photograph, she lets her cloudy mind go blank. As she stares, she starts to hear the voices. 

"...end of the world picture..."

"...Max, let's go!"

"...two moons..." 

Abruptly, her head starts to pound. Another wave of dizziness strikes her, and she collapses back on the floor, her eyes squeezing shut. 

"Leave her alone, Nathan. It takes away from the quality," Jefferson snaps, and Max can hear footsteps as Nathan walks away from her.

Forcing her eyes open, she manages to roll onto her stomach. She has to get out of here. She needs to sober up.

"Nathan," she calls out, desperation turning her voice into a plea. He doesn't answer her. Either that, or she's just making gurgling sounds and drooling. She can find her hope draining away with every passing second. There's always a way out, isn't there? Always a solution? 

She squints, trying to focus on the room around her. Jefferson is squinting at the camera, and she groans when a flash goes off again.

"You know, we're going to have to kill her after this," Jefferson says slowly, smirking as Max's eyes widen in panic. 

"Mark, you said we couldn't kill anyone after what happened to Rach. It's It's too suspicious," Nathan says quickly, and Max watches him step in front of her. "She's fine. We'll just pump her to just below her tolerance level and leave her outside of her dorm. I can even lie and say that we both got too drunk and had sex. Really, we don't need anyone else missing." 

Jefferson's voice is full of suppressed anger. "We have to get rid of her. She's seen both of our faces. Fuck, she can lead the authorities right here and then both of us are put away forever. Your father wouldn't want to bail you out of jail, would he? They can ignore your drug use, but not when multiple people come out saying you drugged them." 

"She's not going to tell anyone if we threaten her."

There's a long pause. Max almost passes out again, the drugs threatening to pull her back under.

"We're not doing it your way. Get the tape."


	2. sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Nathan have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yesyes

Max wakes up in a sea of blue, a hard surface against her back. She notices that she's jostling. Every movement only adds to her pounding head. Max's wrists are bound together with a durable tape, and based on the sound of soft rain above her head and her surroundings tinted blue, she can only assume that they've put her in the back of a pickup under a tarp.

They're going to kill her. Maybe they'll bury her next to Chloe. She briefly wonders where they put Chloe's body, but the thought makes her stomach roll. She has to get out of here. Crawling towards the edge of the truck, she peeks under the tarp, to see if anyone would notice her if she called for help. 

Her only surroundings are thick woods on either side. Shit. They must've planned their route, or something. As Max collapses back onto the bed of the truck, her foot brushes against something, so she peers at it, trying to make sense of the dark mass that she's sharing her quarters with. 

Max closes her eyes tightly to suppress hot tears when she realizes that it's a body bag. 

Maybe there's no getting out of this. Maybe —

A gun goes off, and Max bumps her forehead against the side of the bed as it swerves, hard. Eventually she just lets herself go limp, the faint sound of Nathan swearing adding a backdrop for her next dream. 

As she's pulled under by the drugs, she's 13 years old again, watching a movie with Chloe in her living room. Everything is the same, except whenever Chloe opens her mouth to speak, she can hear Nathan complaining. 

The next time she wakes up, her mind is much clearer. She stretches, to the best of her ability within the stupid duct tape. When she holds up her hand to rewind, she does so with ease. 

But all she can hear is silence. What is going on out there? 

Max starts crawling towards the edge of the tarp, when it's suddenly ripped up and her previously dim room is filled with the light of a flashlight. 

She covers her eyes in pain, and within a few moments, she's able to drop her arm. 

It's only Nathan staring down at her, flashlight in hand. It looks like he's been crying, and by the way his shoulders tremble, he could still be. The words out of his mouth are surprising. 

"I didn't drug Kate."

"Bullshit." Her mouth feels like cotton.

"He made me. But he's... He's not gonna make me do anything anymore," Nathan says firmly, then offers his hand out to her.

Begrudgingly, she takes it, and he manages to haul her lithe body from the truck. 

When her feet hit the soft grass, her knees nearly buckle, but after an amused glance from Nathan, she manages to stay upright. 

"What'd you do to him?" Max asks, and he gestures for her to peer into the truck. When she looks, she finds Mr. Jefferson slumped over the dashboard with a bullet to his left temple. "I... Okay. Why?" He seems so much... Smaller, dead. 

"I'm not going to let them control me anymore. I'm going to do what I want. I shouldn't have to hurt people to make my dad proud," Nathan mutters, not looking at her.

When he looks her in the eyes to find her smiling, he balls his hands up into fists instinctively.

"I'm not like that! I don't want to be like the rest of them. I just want to take stupid pictures and to get loaded," his voice is getting lower. Defensive.

"I knew you weren't. Are you going to call the police?" Max wonders if that should've been their first course of action. Chloe, her voice shaking as her fingers bring up handfuls of dirt. Chloe, furious with a gun. Chloe, her body limply falling to the ground. She swallows hard.

"My dad can't find out about this. We'll dump his body, but then I'm going to go. Head to... Seattle, maybe. I just.. Don't want to do this anymore."

She feels anger flare up in her, but isn't sure why. "Nathan, three people are dead because of you. You can't run away. You have to tell the police what happened. Maybe they'll believe you, maybe not, but running away isn't the answer!"

Nathan grits his teeth and punches the side of the truck, hard. Once the loud banging noise fades away, he rubs his knuckles, looking like he wished she was the one he hit. "Oh my god! You're so stupid. If I go to jail, Crackfield, what's my father going to do? Bail me out, beat my ass, and just keep doing what he's been doing. Christ, he doesn't have a hot teacher to do it through, but I need to get out of here so he'll lose me. We have money. There's no way either of us are staying in jail more than 20 minutes, at most!" 

Max looks at him, then at Jefferson's collapsed body. "Bury him."

"What?" Nathan asks, surprised.

"Put him in the body bag, and bury him. Where's my stuff?"

He points to the driver's seat, and she grabs her bag and fishes her picture of her and Warren from it. She also finds her jacket stuffed on top of her camera, so she shrugs it on with the photo in her hand before turning to Nathan. 

"How do you know about my power?"

He unbuckles Jefferson's seatbelt, glancing at her. "I can fucking see you teleport, bitch. Oh, and I have... visions. I know about the storm. You were going to tell me Friday." 

She swallows, then nods, walking off to consult the photo. She decides to isolate herself in Rachel and Chloe's clubhouse to focus. On her way in, she notices the grass beneath her feet is softer and she has to hold back the urge to gag. She'll fix this. 

As she focuses on the photo, the sound of a drunk Warren fills her ears and the world fills with white.


	3. chaos practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max fixes some issues. Chloe does too.

As soon as the flash fades away, and the world shimmers into existence, white framing it's edges, Max springs into action. 

She lunges forward, grabbing Chloe's sleeve and pulling her close to her. The shock that manages to leak through the cracks of her rage is laced with concern.   
"Max? What's wrong with you?" She asks, trying to pull her into the party, but she digs her heels firmly into the concrete at their feet.

"Chloe," she gasps, feeling the denim of her sleeve and the soft skin underneath. "It's not Nathan." 

"What? The proof is all there. We saw his fucking jacket back in that hellhole." Chloe's voice is a harsh whisper, trying not to let Warren in on this. He sips his beer comfortably. 

"No, Chloe. He's not acting alone. I rewound. I... He's not at that party. But Mr. Jefferson is." Max wants Chloe to get it, to whip the gun out and charge into the party. She watches muted understanding swim beneath her irises.

"Okay, so what? Mr. Jefferson didn't... Oh, Max. I... Are you being honest with me right now?" Chloe stares fiercely down at her, and Max feels so much smaller than her five feet and three inches.

"Yes, Chloe. Mr. Jefferson is the one we're looking for. Nathan's being forced into this," Max insists, still keeping a firm grip on her coat. 

"Why would Nathan's stuff be in there, then? Huh? Why don't you fucking want me to—"

Rewind. Max holds her free hand up, the world spinning with color and voices before letting it fall. Chloe is still staring down at her.

"Nathan's not the one we need to target here. If we fall for his trap... It gets ugly. I have to watch you die again." Chloe has to believe her. This is her last chance. 

Chloe stares at her, deep in thought, before a grin appears on her face, bright despite the coldness of her words. "Where's his car? You said he's at this party, right? I think it's time for a little Arcadia ambush." 

Max feels herself laughing in relief as everything fades away again.

♥⭐

When she opens her eyes, she fully expects everything to have gone to shit. However, she's lying serenely in the grass, next to her best friend. 

She looks around, brow furrowed as she tries to figure out what on earth happened. They're lying on the football field. Chloe's shirt is sticky with blood, clinging to her pale skin. 

Max holds her breath, peeling the shirt away from her. She's relieved to see three shallow scratches, and after a bit of staring, she glances up at Chloe. 

Her eyes are wide open, a conniving smirk on her face. "Trying to feel me up, Caulfield? You know what that's from." 

"Remind me," Max breathes out, collapsing next to her. She presses her face against the cool turf, then checks her nose for signs of excessive rewind. 

Her upper lip is caked with blood. Chloe rips off a clean part of her shirt and hands it to her before speaking. Max wipes off the dried blood, smiling her thanks. 

"Well, we had to drag Casanova through the woods, remember?" Chloe asks, rolling onto her side. Her hair is also tinged red with blood, but Max has a feeling it isn't hers. "And I didn't see those fucking branches." 

The memory pops up, and Max can recall a hint of it.

Jefferson helping an inebriated Victoria to his car. Smirking, charismatic, his voice soft and maybe helpful. Victoria's head having trouble staying up once he's loaded her into the back seat. 

Chloe, obscured by forestry, waiting for him to close the door before shooting him in the foot. The crotch. The face.

Chloe, teary eyed with emotion as Max helps her haul a dizzied Victoria from the leather seats. 

Chloe, hopping from her truck to dump Jefferson in the woods near the beach. Swearing, cursing the world, finding a gas can under the passenger seat and pouring the remains on his bloodstained suit. 

Max watches from the truck, Victoria's blonde head on her shoulder as she mumbles about Nathan Prescott and the Everyday Heroes contest. 

Snapping back to the present, the thought of Chloe laughing as the fire dances ever present in her mind, Max glances around for Victoria. 

She lays on the ground, arm over her eyes as if to block out the sun.

Max glances skyward. The sky is a dark grey, full of clouds. The wind is starting to blow a little faster. 

As if Chloe's reading her mind, she says, "So. What are we going to do about this storm?" 

"I don't know," Max sighs. "But I think we need to head to the lighthouse." 

"The lighthouse? What's that got to do with anything?" Chloe asks, getting to her feet. She holds out her hand for Max to help her up. She's reminded of Nathan, and wonders if he's around. 

Max stands up with Chloe's help. 

"That's where my visions take place, Chloe. Something is... Drawing me there, I think. Maybe I'll be able to stop the storm that way," Max says, as she crouches over Victoria. 

"Just leave her. She'll wake up eventually," Chloe says, grabbing her truck keys from her side pocket and starting to walk to the street. As Max follows her, she pulls out her phone. It's about 6:40am.

Warren: I don't know what you and Chloe were talking about, but it must've been a "hella" interesting night for the both of you. Brb, I need to throw up again.   
Max: I'm glad you stayed safe. I'll call you when all of this blows over. Why don't you and Brooke head to the drive-in early? Like, noon early.  
Warren: If I'm not puking my guts out.

She puts her phone away and hops into the cab of the truck, while Chloe starts to blare the radio.


End file.
